When the Leaves are Falling in Sherwood
by Sarah Haywood
Summary: What if the fundamental thing everyone knows about Robin Hood was wrong? What if the only reason was love, not for saving the peasants or helping the world? What if the only reason Robin was Robin was because otherwise... she would be alone?
1. Monegum Mægþum

Mmm. It's been a while since I've written a RH fic.

I promise it'll be decent. That is, if you're open to some interpretation on the traditional Robin Hood myth.

**Disclaimer:**

Robin Hood does not belong to me. Also be warned that this fic will contain yuri/lesbian relationships. No sex or anything pornographic, but there is a mention ofrelationships between females. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. NO HOMOPHOBIA, PLEASE. OR I'LL SHOOT SOMEONE.

Hey, if you tolerate Robin/Prince John fics, you can tolerate this. And I promise it's better writing than anything else I have up on this site.

So, if any of you are still reading this...

_When the Leaves are Falling in Sherwood_

* * *

Robin's eyes opened to the sounds of the greenwood. There was a soft twittering of birds, the gurgling of the stream on whose banks they were lying, a smell in the air that suggested lightening was approaching, a July early-morning comfort, and an overabundance of hair in Robin's face. Marian's hair. 

Marian had always had lot of hair. She had used to spend hours brushing it with a fine toothed comb till it shone and fitted underneath the restricting headdresses she had to wear to be acceptable. Robin looked her over and smiled at the irony of it all. Lying half-naked as she was, Marian certainly wasn't acceptable now. But certainly, she was more beautiful now than before, when she hadn't belonged to the Outlaw of Sherwood Forest.

Robin sat up slowly so as not to disturb her, and looked at the sweetness of her sleeping face. The details of her were so fascinating, the way the black hair fell across her white face, the way her brow wrinkled ever so slightly as she dreamed, the way the tiny moon shaped birthmark above her eyebrow obstructed the symmetry of her face yet gave her something that distinguished her from all the other beautiful girls that Robin had slept with.

The Outlaw of Sherwood had waited for this for what had seemed an age. It was not the lovers' first time, but it was their first time without a fear of being caught by someone, their first time since Robin had worked for Marian's father, their first time since the outlaw had risked it all for this ruse. And the ruse had worked.

Robin lay back down and looked at Marian again, examining more things about her face. Robin noticed how long her eyelashes were, how her face had been almost crushed into the palm of her hand as she slept, how her nose was narrow and well ordered with very little acne or other such imperfections. The famous outlaw decided to wake her, and leant forward and kissed her forehead.

Marian's whole face changed, and Robin watched as she wrinkled her nose and shut her eyes tight as if her face was desperately trying to stay asleep, then her face relaxed and she made a noise like, "Hnn…" and then her eyes opened.

Marian's eyes had always been a subject of fixation for her lover. They were a determined shade of blue, a blue that seemed to defy the dark color of her hair and the pale color of her skin almost in the same way Marian had defied her parents and run off with an outlaw. Her lips parted, to the delight of Robin, who took delight in everything that Marian did, and whispered a word, as the blue, blue eyes focused on the imperfection that was her skinny, wiry, driven admirer.

"Reina…" she whispered, and leant in and kissed Robin with a smile in her mouth so Robin could feel it, disregarding the worries the outlaw had been having about morning breath. "Reina, it was real…"

"Robin," the outlaw corrected, trying to be firm but finding Marian too lovely to be stern with her, "You can't call me Reina back at the camp."

Marian wrinkled her nose again, "Robin, Reina, Robin, Reina," she said softly, kissing Robin in between words, "I don't care."

Robin had to consciously not melt, "I do care, my love. I have to care. If you call me Reina at camp…"

"Then they'll find out who you are and everything will be ruined, I know." Marian was serious now, "I'll be careful. I won't let your men find out you're a girl. But I'll call you Reina when no one will hear us."

Robin pulled Marian into her arms and Marian nestled into her chest, which felt ridiculously loose. The "King" of Sherwood had had to do lots of things to keep the ruse up, some of which had been easy, (like cutting her hair off) and some of which hadn't (like binding her breasts so tightly with cloth her chest seemed flat.) Bathing had been hard too, always having to disappear into the forest and finding an icy stream to wash in. Luckily outlaws didn't wash too often. Lucky, also, was the fact that Robin's breasts were smaller than most other women's.

Marian suddenly became aware of the state of her dressings. Indeed, if they were to go back to camp that day she would be quite a spectacle, as she wore naught but one of Robin's tunics, the green woolen one that went over the pale white linen Robin wore now. She giggled to herself at the impropriety of it all, a Lady, nay, a Ward of King Richard, lying in a secret clearing in Sherwood Forest with naught but a man's tunic on, in the arms of another woman, a woman who had killed, stolen, and worst of all, loved other women in ways unholy, including herself.

And the funny thing was, at that moment, in that idea of realization that she was not a good, proper lady, in the thought that if her parents were to see what she was doing right now, they would turn in their graves and bar her physically from heaven, in that second, she had the insane urge to kiss Robin on the mouth. And she did, too.

The younger girl's eyes closed as Marian's mouth touched her. She opened her mouth and they danced together inside each other, and their tongues flickering in and out of each other's mouths, playing a game of cat and mouse that was much nicer and more intimate than the childhood pretends that took place in the streets of Nottingham. Marian's hands left the safety of Robin's neck and worked their ways down her sides. Slowly, ever so slowly, they made their way underneath the loose tunic that Robin wore, up the soft, white skin to the delicious flesh of Robin's small breasts, who had been so abused in the past year that Marian had to be gentle with them.

Robin was the first to pull away, and they both lay back on the soft moss they had spent the night on. Marian still touched Robin's breasts, and she smiled wickedly at her as they lay there, facing each other.

"I love you." Robin said smiling.

"I love you too." Marian grinned, and moved her hands to the soft white skin of Robin's back, and they held each other, eyes closed, listening to the sound of each other's heartbeats.

* * *

There was a strangeness about Marian's new lady-in-waiting that confused Marian to no end. She wasn't… cold… that wasn't the word to describe her, more like introverted, or with a secret. Reina kept her eyes on the floor, never making eye contact with Marian, even during their seldom conversations. 

"Stop pulling, that hurts!" she cried as Reina tugged at a tangle of her matted dark hair. Hair at Marian's length tangled at random, and would onset at any time, giving her hours of sitting still while her strange lady-in-waiting attacked her hair with reckless abandon.

Reina's voice was mildly amused, "Well, if you would let me plait it for you at night, it wouldn't tangle nearly so often."

"But that hurts too!" cried Marian as Reina resumed her war against the rat's nest at the back of Marian's head, "Could you try and be more gentle?"

"I could try, Miss Marian."

"Thank you."

Reina really did try to be more gentle with her hair, but when Marian sucked in her breath as every stroke of the comb touched her head, she began to show some frustration, "This is pointless if you're going to insist on making a fuss about a few hairs being pulled!"

Marian realized suddenly, that it wasn't about the minimal pain involved in having her hair brushed; it was more that she wanted to interact with her and make her rather intriguing lady-in-waiting look at her properly.

"That's as good as I can make it, tonight." Reina said, putting the comb down, "Goodnight, Marian."

Marian touched her hand, "Can you stay with me tonight?" she asked, "It's so cold, this night… and…" she broke off, suddenly embarrassed, "…I have strange dreams…"

Marian did indeed have strange dreams. She would be in a big forest, and all of a sudden _someone_ would come out of the trees, they would kiss, and suddenly Marian would realize that the person was a girl, and that all the trees were people, shooting arrows at her. She shuddered. She hated those dreams… she always felt so strange when she awoke… horrified but content, humiliated but joyous, disgusted by the idea and turned on at the same time.

Reina appeared to think, furrowing her brow, focusing on a spinning wheel just visible over Marian's shoulder, "Alright. I'll stay tonight."

It was not a suggestion of something bad, when women slept with women in that time. It was because it was January, and the castle was cold and damp, and the fires often went out on their own accord in the wee hours of the morning.

Reina pulled off her serving gown so she wore nothing but her linen gown that served as a petticoat. Her body was different from Marian's, skinny and flat and freckled, with long gingery hair that fell all about her face. She was taller than Marian, with almost a manly air about her. Marian took off her dress underneath the covers and, casting the garment aside, she beckoned to her maid. Haltingly, almost nervously, Reina came, lying in the bed as though it might collapse. They lay, awkwardly, until Marian pulled herself over to the girl who somehow fascinated her.

"Tell me your story," whispered Marian into Reina's ear, "I want to know all about you."

Reina turned her head and looked into Marian's cerulean eyes, surprise reflecting in her sharp brown ones, "There isn't really much to know or tell," she whispered apologetically.

"Everyone has a story."

"Well," she said hesitantly, "how should I start?"

"Tell me of your family."

"Alright," she murmured, thinking, "I have two parents with a tooth between them… a small sister, two middle sized brothers, and a twin."

"A twin."

She smiled and nodded, "Yes. His name's Robin. He's off pursuing some cause or another… something to do with Richard coming back."

Marian smiled indulgently, "That sounds romantic."

Reina rolled her eyes, "No, he's a fool. He thinks he can do anything if he puts his mind to it."

"Well can't he?"

"No. You actually have to do work. You can't just wish things done." To Marian, she sounded vexed.

"Well what else?" Marian asked, persevering through the awkward silence that followed Reina's last words, "What do you like doing?"

"I can fight." The other girl said, "I can beat my brothers when I feel like it."

Marian was shocked, "But ladies don't…"

"They do when they have to deal with highwaymen, cutthroats, braggarts and tax collectors day after day." Reina smiled, "What about you? What's your story?"

"Mine?" she broke off, "I was engaged to be married when I was thirteen."

"Really?" Reina rolled over to face her so that her legs just touched Marian's, "What happened?"

"He broke it off and ran away with a peasant woman. I never liked him anyway." She lied. She had liked him a lot… as a brother. She never could picture herself with a man so much older than her. Or any man, to be completely correct.

"That's awful." Reina declared, "But you'll find another, eh?"

"I don't know." Marian sighed, "Men are so strange to me…. the way they always boast and always want to go off to war." She grinned wickedly, "and then there's their strange… equipment…."

"Mmm. I don't like it much either." Reina shuddered, "I might become a nun. Then I won't ever have to see any, except for the occasional priest."

Marian giggled. "I like it when you talk, Reina."

"Huh?"

"You never talk to me. It's almost like you hate me."

Reina had surprise and hurt in her dark eyes, "No!" she declared, "No, I don't hate you at all. I'm just shy, tis all." She lowered her eyes, looking away from the piercing blue, "I… I like you a lot."

Marian smiled, "I like you too, Reina."

Reina still wouldn't look at her, so Marian gently touched her face, bringing the dark eyes into hers. Her eyes…. they had so much in them, like entire universes, boundless heavens of feelings that made Marian shudder inside.

There was something intense about Reina.

Her stomach squirmed pleasantly. She didn't quite understand what it was that was so intense about Reina…

But she would soon find out.


	2. Oðþæt im æghwylc

So chapter two. I hope people will actually read this thing, becauseI like it.

Well. There isnt much to say. Read on, comrades!

* * *

Marian found herself thinking of Reina whenever she wasn't preoccupied with thinking about something else.

Her thoughts were innocent enough, at first. Wonderings about Reina's mysterious childhood, for example, or pondering where she was and what she was doing. But as she got to know the soft spoken girl better, she began to think of things like the roundness of her breasts and the redness of her lips.

"Marian," Reina said one evening as she brushed out Marian's long black hair, "You always seem to be somewhere else."

"Do I?" replied Marian, looking into the glass, "I suppose that might be true, sometimes." She fixed her eyes on the taller girl's face, reflected in the wavy blurriness of the mirror.

Reina looked away, "What were you thinking about?"

Marian wondered whether to speak the truth. Surely telling the other girl that she was thinking about the touch of their lips was more sinful then telling a rather large lie. "I was thinking about the weather." she said, after a pause.

Reina raised one eyebrow and smiled, "A rather dull daydream, for you."

"It wasn't a daydream. I was wondering if there was going to be a storm tonight." She improvised quickly. "…You know how I hate the thunder." Marian finished lamely, resting her fair cheek in her small hand. "Stay with me tonight?" she asked.

"Of course." Reina put the brush down on the small table, and Marian stood up, admiring in the glass the way her long black hair fanned out behind her. She walked over to her bed and sat down next to the post holding up the large red canopy.

Marian got out her needlework and smiled coyly at Reina, who was busying herself in cleaning the room. "You don't have to do that, you know." she said, not looking up from the embroidery she was making of St. George and the dragon. "I can get servants to clean it up in the morning."

"I am a servant."

Marian rolled her eyes, "You're different."

Reina laughed; a soft, attractive thing that made fireworks go off in Marian's stomach, "Really?" she walked over to where the other girl was sitting and stood, her shins touching her knees. The closeness left a sort of electricity in the air for Marian. She raised her eyes to look up at the gingery girl through her dark eyelashes. Reina had an intense look on her face, some unreadable emotion that the other girl couldn't understand. She continued, "If I'm so different from other servants that I don't have to clean, what should I do then?"

Marian pricked herself with her needle in her fluster. "'Zounds!" she exclaimed, sticking her finger into her mouth Her blood tasted metallic, and she sucked on it for a while, then drew it out of her mouth to examine the damage. A red stream mixed in with her saliva, and she wiped her finger on her blue dress. "That hurt."

Reina squatted down to examine the wound. She took Marian's hand in hers and scrutinized the tiny bead of blood oozing from the lady's finger. "You'll survive. It's only a pinprick."

"I know I'll survive." She put her finger back into her mouth, carrying Reina's hand with hers, "I should wear a thimble next time though."

Reina squeezed Marian's hand, then let her own fall back into her lap. Their eyes met, her dark eyes connecting with the cornflower blue of Marian's.

Marian felt all thoughts of the tiny wound on her finger fall away as she looked into the alert, probing eyes of the other girl. She felt something stir in the pit of her stomach again, and knew that a chaste life without sin could not be how hers was destined to be.

She stood up, Reina following her, and their bodies were so close she could smell the bitterness of the serving girl's breath. They still gazed into each other's eyes; it was like she was hypnotized by the intensity of the penetrating, longing look of Reina's face. Their faces were so close—

Reina bent down a little, and pushed her lips against the other girl's mouth. Startled, Marian did not move at all. Freckled hands suddenly journeyed down to her waist, and with that other touch, Marian responded by kissing her back, forcing all of her emotion back into the other girl's mouth. A thousand thoughts zinged through her mind at once. What does this mean? Why did she do it? Does this mean she feels the same way? What shall happen now? What if someone sees? What if someone catches us? What would they do if they did?

Reina broke the kiss, and again she was searching for something in Marian's face.

"I…" Marian began, "I…" she stopped, and tore her eyes from Reina's face. "I can't."

She walked quickly out of the room, only turning to look back at the beautiful serving girl when she reached the door. "I'm sorry."

* * *

The two did not want to return to camp when the time came, but as Robin said, they had no choice. Still, they managed to take as much time as they could getting on about it, stopping numerous times for kissing and twice for a hunk of bread and cheese in a particularly pretty part of Sherwood. Despite their dawdling, the pair unhappily reached the camp by nightfall.

Before they passed through the trees that led to the clearing filled with masses of tents, beds, and small campfires, Robin noticed Marian hesitate, her deep blue eyes filled with concern. The outlaw reached out in the half-darkness, touching the other girl's cheek with a rough finger, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

She was silently reminding Marian that there were no obligations yet. If she truly wanted, she could go back to the sheriff, marry Guy of Guisborne, call their love kidnap and never see Robin again.

Marian nodded, smiling at Robin with her eyes, "Of course, my darling."

There, in the bushes, they shared their last secret kiss, filled with anticipation and quite a bit of anxiety, but that was to be expected. They broke apart, and slowly, they stepped into the firelight of the clearing.

There was a silence when they entered, and Robin felt the familiar eyes upon them. She stood awkwardly for a time, squeezing Marian's hand. Then someone clapped, once, and suddenly the entire camp shook with the cheers of the outlaws.

"Robin! You're back!"

"And he brought Marian!"

"Marian? You mean the girl—"

"Robin's finally got her!"

"Three cheers for Robin and Marian!"

The cheers and laughter filled the camp, and the entire clearing was filled with an excited buzz.

Robin laughed merrily, and dragged Marian by the wrist to the high table, where several outlaws sat with their clay mugs of ale and cider.

Sitting at the far end of the table was Friar Tuck, an enormously fat man, balding and dressed in monk's robes. On his left was Will Scarlet, blonde and gorgeous, with plump pink lips and vermillion eyes. He, of course, wore only red clothes. On the right of the friar was Allan A-Dale, who was small and compact, with soulful brown eyes and dark hair. He held a lute, and strummed it from time to time with a melancholy air. At the opposite end of the table was Little John, a giant. He must have been about eight feet tall, and had hands big enough to crush a man's head. His laugh was deep and full, and when he was amused his booming voice reverberated all about the camp. Beside him, on a stool, was a small boy, Much. Robin lead Marian to the two empty seats in the middle, and they both sat down.

Steaming hunks of meat were brought to them from the fires, burned black on the outsides, and still red and bloody on the insides. Alongside the venison, rabbit, and mutton were leeks and onions, steaming and hot and aromatic. The juices were ready to be caught up in pieces of crusty brown bread, cooked that morning on slabs of rock beside the fires.

Marian's eyes lit up. She hadn't eaten such a feast since her betrothal ceremony, and on that day she had not been very preoccupied with food. She pulled a dagger from her girdle and stabbed the mutton with it, maneuvering it into her mouth. It was delicious.

Robin took a great swig of ale and ate with her hands, laughing and enjoying the riddles and rather rude jokes that floated across the table.

"Robin, aren't you going to make a speech?" asked Will Scarlet, finishing his food and putting his feet on the table, "Y'know. About yer wife and all that?"

"I'm not… his… wife yet." said Marian, smiling.

"Ah! So she's having second thoughts!" came the almost immediate cry from Little John.

"Better tie her to the nearest tree!" called someone, Robin didn't know who.

"Or, better yet, the nearest bedpost!" Allan A Dale replied. The table was caught up in a tide of inconsolable mirth for what seemed to me an inappropriate amount of time to Robin. She forced an awkward smile and looked over apologetically to Marian.

Luckily, Marian was laughing harder than some of the other outlaws, and when her laughter subsided, she said over her mug of ale, "No, there are no second thoughts going through my head. I just don't know when or how we could get married."

"Friar Tuck could marry you!" said the small boy, Much, "You could get married tomorrow!"

Robin didn't look up from her alcohol, "I don't know about tomorrow…"

"Why," asked Little John, "Don't you want to get married?"

"Of course I do," replied Robin, chewing on a tough piece of meat, "I just don't know if it would be possible to-"

Friar Tuck laughed merrily, "Why not tomorrow?" he said in his strong Yorkshire accent.

"Because it would be impossible to get ready and—"

"We could do it on Thor's Day." said Marian calmly, saving her lover, "Then we could have our wedding on Midsummer's night, under the stars."

The other outlaws cooed mockingly at the 'romance' of the situation, but Thor's Day did seem like a better day, and Robin approved.

The moon rose high and the fires died low, and once the other outlaws were unable to see each other's faces it was generally decided that they should go get some sleep. The Merry Men all had different preferences when it came to sleep. Many slept in hammocks. A few slept in tents they created to house their families. As the crowd of fifty or so people dispersed into the wood, Robin, Marian and Will Scarlet stood alone next to the embers of one of the cooking fires.

"It shall be busy tomorrow. We might raid someone." Robin informed Will, "In any case, make sure the lookout is alert and awake tomorrow when you take his place." She yawned, her eye on Marian.

Marian squatted before the fire, tugging clumps of grass out of the ground and watching as they curled up and went black on the hot coals.

"Yes sir." said Will, rubbing his eyes. He was slightly drunk. "I'll see you tomorrow, sir." He smiled and wandered off into the woods.

When she was sure he was out of earshot, Robin squatted down beside Marian. "They take a little time to get used to."

"I liked your friends," Marian said, throwing more grass onto the fire, "They were funny."

"They were rude."

"I know. But they're genuine."

Robin smiled, and took hold of Marian's hand. She knew how difficult it was for her to get used to the bluntness of the forest people when she had grown up all her life skirting around important things and discussing trivial matters as if they would affect the universe forever.

She stood up, taking her soon-to-be wife with her. "Come on. I'll show you where we're sleeping."

"Alright."

The two women, one in the robes of a man, the other in the robes of a noble, walked hand and hand through the clearing to a small path leading to the heart of Sherwood. The night was warm, and occasionally they were bathed in the green light of a few fireflies as well as the silver iridescence of the moon.

After about five minutes of Robin leading Marian through the trees, she stopped before an immense oak.

The tree was ancient. The trunk was fat and covered in moss, and the branches twisted about into spires above their heads. It must have been as tall as any cathedral, and its roots alone were as tall as Little John. Robin brought Marian around the huge base of the tree, to a small hovel made in between two roots.

It was dark, too dark for anyone to see, but Robin was too excited to let Marian enter their new home without a little urging. "Go in!" she said excitedly.

Marian cautiously entered, and Robin followed. She swiftly delved into the pouch beside her leggings for a flint, and lit the candle made of animal fat which stood beside the door. The hovel was small, furnished with a small stool in one corner, a shelf for putting things on, and a pile of furs in one corner.

Robin was a little abashed. Now that she was there with her love, she realized how simple and plain it was compared with the towering grandeur of the Norman lady's life and possessions before she stole her away. "Err… I'm sorry it's so-"

"I love it!" exclaimed Marian, diving into the furs. "It's perfectly lovely, Reina!"

"But—"

"But what?"

"Nothing, love." Robin smiled to herself, pulled off her shirt, and gingerly freed her breasts from their wrappings.

"Drop that tunic." Marian's voice demanded as the outlaw reached for her shirt again. "Don't even think about covering yourself."

"…" Robin would have been speechless, if Marian hadn't jumped up and kissed her before she could say anything.

She reeled, as Marian's able tongue suddenly became all she had to focus on as it played in her mouth. She wasn't used to her being so… dominant.

Marian's soft hands journeyed up her chest and found her breasts.

Robin decided she liked it when Marian was dominant.

She broke away from the embrace long enough to lift Marian's dress over her head and drop it on the floor.

Naked, they fell upon the pile of fur, and passed the night quite pleasurably together.


End file.
